Not as planned
by Cyricist001
Summary: Even the best of plans sometimes fail through utterly bizarre circumstances.


Not as planned

I own nothing

Challenge/Oneshot

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Pain... it was his loyal companion for so long that he was already accustomed to its presence. He fought through the unpleasant feeling and opened his eyes...or rather eye as he regained consciousness.

 _Where am I?_ though the man as he observed his surroundings...the last thing he remembered was that they vanquished the King of Shadows and were running for their lives from the collapsing Ilfarn ruins...then pain, and darkness took him...

The room in which he found himself now was utilitarian, with thick stone walls, a big hearth and some wooden furniture on the side. The bed covers were nothing but furs possibly indicating a climate colder than one around the Sword Coast.

As he was contemplating his situation the door opened and a elderly man entered the room "Ah, I see you are awake...good, good. How are you feeling?"

"Alive" was his irate response as he forced his body into a siting position, not an easy thing to do considering how many bandages he was wrapped in. He couldn't see through his right eye, nor move his right arm probably thanks to the falling masonry in the Fortress of Shadows.

"Amazing I know. When Rickon found you in the Godswood you were barely alive...it was a close call but I managed to snatch you away from the jaws of death" said the old man "but look at me ramble, my name is Maester Luvin and who would you be?"

"Ammon Jerro" said the warlock as he examined his injuries. He had no reason to hide any more...the King of Shadows was gone, as was his purpose in life "I assume that a proper healer isn't accessible to fix this."

Luvin didn't show that the man's words were rather insulting, it was always advisable to not offend people...then again serving under the Starks had made him a bit blunt. When Brann and he looked through the strangers belongings they found a lot of unusual things on him. The man had to be of some importance to carry around weapons and armor of such quality, not to mention all the gold he had on his person. "I'm afraid there are no better healers in these parts as far as I'm aware off, so you will have to make do with my skills."

"Wonderful" deadpanned Jerro as he removed the furs and forced his body to stand "and where exactly am I?"

The old maester could see that his patient was accustomed to giving orders and had a no nonsense attitude oozing with every word he spoke...with all that pride the stranger must be a noble of some sort. "You are currently in Winterfell, seat of House Stark. Might I ask how you came to be here, beaten and bloodied? None of the guards remember you passing through any of the gates."

"Most likely magic" said the warlock "though I don't know whom to thank for that."

"And from where do you come from?" inquired the maester further. Though the Citadel dismised magic as long lost knowledge he knew that in Ashai people still praciticed the art.

"Neverwinter."

"Neverwinter?" mused Luvin "I'm afraid I don't recognize the name, where is it located?"

The warlock snorted "Neverwinter is located on the Sword Coast, northern part of Faerun."

"I don't recognize any of those names I'm afraid."

The wounded man simply snorted again "Further away than I though..."

The strangers words made Luvin raise an eyebrow but didn't ask the man to elaborate "I will send some servants to bring you something to eat, you must be hungry."

The warlock though about food and his stomach grumbled "It seems I am."

Luvin opened his mouth to say something when he heard the door open. He turned around and spotted Hodor carrying Bran inside.

"I see our guest is awake" said the boy.

"Yes, he just regained consciousness" said the old maester.

"I'm Brandon Stark, acting lord of Winterfell."

With a glance the warlock could see the sorrow the boy concealed behind his faint smile. The child watched his tattoos with obvious fascination, happy with anything that would distract him from his problems.

"Ammon Jerro, warlock and the former court wizard of Neverwinter."

The boys eyes widened "You're a warlock?!" he asked enthusiastically.

"That's what I just said" was Ammon's reply, his voice betraying irritation. He was never good with children...Shandra was the best proof of that.

"So you can do magic? Can you heal people?" asked the boy hopefully.

"No" was the old man's reply "for that you would need a divine spellcaster like a druid or a cleric."

Bran's smile instantly evaporated "I...I hoped that there was a way I could walk again."

The warlock remained stone faced at the boys plight, earning himself the enmity of measter Luvin. Truth be told he could make the child walk again if he turned him into a warlock, but that would require the boy to sell his very soul to some demon or devil. No, gaining the ability to walk wasn't worth it to damn ones soul to the eternity in Hell.

"It was nice meeting you mister Ammon" said the boy as he instructed the large man called Hodor to bring him to his room.

Luvin watched the boy leave before he too followed the duo out, leaving the warlock by himself in the room.

Ammon Jerro was left alone with his thoughts except when a servant brought him something for supper. The old woman spoke too much for his taste, but the tales of these White Walkers were interesting...he will have to look further into it tomorrow.

XXXX

The warlocks eyes opened up as he heard shouting from the castles courtyard. If he wasn't irritated enough, the one causing the noise had the most annoying voice he had ever heard.

Ammon sighed as he dragged himself out of the bed and got dressed into the enchanted mithral armor provided by the Knight-Captain. Thanks to his Fiendish Resilience ability he managed to regenerate most of the damage he sustained in the last battle.

Once dressed he walked out of his room and saw a group of armed men down the corridor. As soon as they saw him they went towards him.

"Seems we missed one" said one of them as he pointed his sword at what they presumed was a ordinary old man.

"Oy, old fart what are you waiting for, get down to the courtyard."

"Oh really? And what if I refuse?" inquired the warlock.

"The old fool really is fukin stupid" grinned a smaller man with bad teeth "we should teach him a lesson, we should."

"We have taken Winterfell you stupid cunt, get down to the courtyard immediately or we will send you out through the window" threatened one of the thugs.

"I see.." mused the warlock as he pointed his right arm at the approaching thugs. The trio didnt even have time to scream as his Vitriolic Eldritch Chain turned them to ash.

That done he walked down the corridor and stairs until he found himself outside, a large group of people already gathered in the castles courtyard.

It was just in time to see how the boy named Bran yielded Winterfell to the guy who was called Prince Theon.

"Master Luvin, send a raven to Pyke informing my father of my victory here" said the man.

Ammon could only snort, the man was an idiot. He had fewer than a handful of men and he wanted to hold a enemy castle until reinforcements arrive while being surrounded by enemy's? Lunacy. True, he had the Stark boy but if his older brother was smart he would have stormed the castle anyway.

There was no real reason for him to oppose these people, he didn't know what was going on and he certainly wasn't thankful to the child lord for saving his life. But the voice of this so called prince of the Iron Islands awoke him from his sleep, and then his thugs tried to be funny...

"That wont be necessary" said the warlock loudly enough for everyone to hear "you will soon be departing this place."

"Oh, and who is going to make us leave?" said the smug man "you old man?"

Ammon unleashed another Vitriolic Eldritch Chain on the Ironborn and turned them into ash, leaving only prince Theon standing alone, and completely dumbstruck.

The prince and the other's watched in shock the display of magic showed by the old tattooed man, then it dawned on him and all the other people in the courtyard that he was the last Ironborn surrounded by a large group of Stark loyalists.

He actually felt like a sheep surrounded by wolves "Oh, crap..:"

Ammon Jerro didn't even blink as the people tore Theon a new one, he was more interested to get his hands on some books about these White Walkers.

THE END


End file.
